Wide Awake Sleeping
Monday, June 29, 2009
"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much." - Mother Teresa
Well, I said that I would start writing. With so many things swirling in my head, I'm never sure what to say. Most of it makes no sense.
Yesterday I read This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosely. It's a really good book for those who want to know more about elements of books that make books enjoyable to read. I read the 103-page book in a few hours--a record for me. I even jotted down some notes. I'm going to put a paragraph of what someone inspired me to write down here. Let me know what you think:
Well, I said that I would start writing. With so many things swirling in my head, I'm never sure what to say. Most of it makes no sense.
Yesterday I read This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosely. It's a really good book for those who want to know more about elements of books that make books enjoyable to read. I read the 103-page book in a few hours--a record for me. I even jotted down some notes. I'm going to put a paragraph of what someone inspired me to write down here. Let me know what you think:
Uncle Pleak was not the nickname that she’d hoped for. At birth, her eyes were as big as silver dollars, as shiny as new ones. They somehow looked as if generations of secrets were sealed inside. The compliment was lost on her. The thought of looking like a man—let alone the fact that she couldn’t gain a pound of weight carrying a croaker sack of potatoes—just plain made her mad. With the other girls around her getting attention from the boys, Pleak got nothing from them but laughs and questions about other girls. Everyone took Pleak as one of the boys and she never thought things would change.
Labels: Calls for Response, Prose
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